


Among the living

by JaqofSpades



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Meme, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: Looking at her sometimes, he can’t even see the kid he picked up by the side of the road lifetimes ago.
Relationships: Logan/Rogue (X-Men)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Among the living

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble that grew for the drabble meme. (4. I'm too sober for this). I'm honestly not sure who dropped the prompt in my askbox (it was before the adult content brouhaha on Tumblr, and guess what, I was flagged ...) but since there are a few old faithfuls out there, this one is for you. I wish I could promise more at this point, but I really can't.

He never expected it to be easy, but watching them grow – fall in love, have kids, divorce, fall in love again, rinse, fuckin’ repeat – killed him in ways Logan could have never predicted.

Looking at her sometimes, he can’t even see the kid he picked up by the side of the road lifetimes ago. At least the guilt is gone – she’s a woman now, no doubt about it, the thin line of plump lips telling him just how grown she is. Exasperated, pissed off, constantly tired from running round after three ungrateful shits.

None of them his. He’s never owned up to how much that hurts, that he’d been waiting, even. Her teenage crush had turned into marriage number one, and two brats that sucked up the next decade of her life. He’d come home, then, determined to be around when she needed him, but … she was still pissed he’d left in the first place. Had gotten along just fine without him, she’d snarled. Introduced him to her kids as the legendary Wolverine, and that was that, from then on. Logan and Marie had been relegated to a pretty, framed picture she kept in her bottom drawer.

He actually likes her second husband, one of Scooter’s spawn, and he tries to be a friend to both of them, to keep his thoughts clean and hands off. But its like swimming against the tide – unforgiving and exhausting, always ending up right back where they started. When they slip, just once, Rogue gets vicious and tells one too many truths, so he heads north again until that marriage falls apart all by itself.

He returns to the mansion each year to toughen up the latest crop of junior X-men. One year, the tall blonde kid is so familiar, he doesn’t even have to ask his name, just what he goes by. (He refuses to call him “Drake.”) A few years drift past and the younger brother is there too. He’s a touch empath just like she is, without the control issues. Little asshole, too. 

Logan tries not think what that’s been like for her, watching her hated mutation manifest as something controllable and useful, in a kid determined to hate the world. Do these loved, safe kids have even the slightest idea of what she went through, he wonders? How lucky they are?

“I’m too sober for this,” he mutters as he faces off with the children and grandchildren of his friends, trying not to think the march of time has played him for a fool. Training isn’t what it used to be, not with the risk of imminent death neutralised. They place nice with the government these days, even attract a lot of funding for what they do. 

It’s been a decade since the full team did anything more than train, and he doubts he’ll ever be asked to get anyone combat-ready ever again. He’s a relic, basically – figurehead at best. They still do runs to pick up newly-manifested kids, but Rogue’s skill set – child psychologist – is more useful than his these days.

When her boys quit being teenagers he’s surprised to find them turning into friends. He spars with them and shapes them and teaches ‘em a few bad habits just the way he did Marie. They only ever call him Wolverine, though, and these days, when they fail at avoiding each other, so does she.

Mostly.

It’s supposed to be a standard pickup, get in, give the spiel, get out with one grateful new mutant aboard. But the info is bad, and Mom and Dad turn out to be master criminals, very much not related to their brood of carefully selected mutants. And they don’t want to relinquish their assets, either.

The fight is bloody, and the kids panic because they are so fucking far from combat ready, and yes, IceJunior gets wounded but it’s barely a scratch, so Mama Rogue needs to calm the fuck down.

“We don’t have time for this – fuss over him on the plane,” he snaps as Rogue wraps the laceration – or was it a burn? – now decorating her eldest. Rogue has sent her second son, Sol, back to the plane for the medical kit, but this ain’t the time or place to be caught on the ground. Wolverine scoops up the young X-man, pushing Rogue out of the way as he sprints for the jet.

“Logan, please,” she begs, and he tries not to lose it at this fretting woman inhabiting the body of the warrior he’s loved so long.

“We’ll look after him, Marie,” he pants, and shoves the kid into the door of the jet, where his brother is waiting. “Maybe train the little one as a fucking medic if they’re gonna keep this shit up.”

She rolls her eyes at him and pushes past into the pilot seat. “Look after my boy, Logan.”

“Do you even have to fucken’ ask,” he mumbles under his breath, strapping the kid into the seat and holding him still as his brother finishes bandaging. They’re half airborne before he’s able to strap himself in, and even then, can’t stop checking the kids on the monitor.

“They’ll be okay,” she shushes, and he knows it, of course they will. “Thanks for …”

Nothing, he thinks. Once, you woulda known that. Not like I can stop myself, looking after you and yours.

“Do you ever wish, Logan ...” 

He looks at her sharply, because they never do this. Never bring up the past, and all their near misses.

“Nope.”

Her smile is soft and a million years old. Rogue never smiles like that, but once upon a time …

“Liar,” says Marie, and it prickles up his spine, being seen like that.

(Later, she’ll confess she’s always known. Been waiting, in fact. But he was too busy running to notice when she'd stopped.)

When they leave the hanger, her hand slides into his. It's just 'cause she's worried, he tells himself, and that keeps him steady until much later, when they've helped the kid hobble out of Medbay and back to his room, and paused outside the door to his own. Marie looks up at him, and bites her lip, and he wants to kiss it better exactly the same way he's done for a lifetime now. And when her gloved hand slides up his arm, satin on leather is still the most erotic thing he's ever felt, and the smell of her alone is more seduction than he's ever needed.

"Can I come in?" she asks, and he knows what she's saying. Knows it's not just for a few hours, or a night. Knows this might be their last chance.

There's no fool like an old fool, he warns himself, but the slamming in his chest reminds him he's still alive, and that no matter how he tries, how many times he runs ...

His heart is always going to belong to Marie.

<fin>


End file.
